Fair trade

Yesterday behaved itself: I kept moodiness in check, had a nice visit with a friend, and learned more about you and your family. Already today seems as though it will not cooperate as willingly.

Yesterday one of the goons and I got to know each other. He told me about your childhood, from his vantage point, of course. Your diagnosis changed the dynamic of the family. Almost like you had a twin brother who had not been there for nine years suddenly appear. Together, the twins became the focus of the family.

We talked about fistfights, BB guns and scuffles. Typical brother stuff. We talked about hero worship. Most older brothers earn some. We talked about how love and hate can be so similar, though not in those words.

The goon told me about the mystery you. How you compartmentalized your life. We discussed romanticized expectations. I knew all of this to some degree.

If I could put all the mysterious pieces of you together, would I? No, thanks. The mystery was as much a part of you as your brown eyes. I do not want to disassemble what I know and reassemble a different you, although to some extent that happens naturally when various components of your life get together. Some things are inescapable. But why push the wagon over the edge of the cliff?

Other parts of me want to know as much as I possibly can learn. I am basically a curious person, just like you were. While you often crunched stats to learn, I observe. I am a watcher. I am at my happiest sitting on the sidelines and watching people. I have learned much about humans and life this way. Sure, some lessons have taken me longer than others, but learn I do.

I showed the goon who I am the best way I could. I hope he understood me at least a little. There were certain questions and topics I did not want to discuss. He hit me with them from every angle. I held my ground for the most part. But I am ashamed to say I also said more than I wanted to. You know me and my heart.

The goon worries about your mother. I dropped her a note yesterday. I hope she takes the message to heart.

I worry about your mother too, but I know her strength. Your death knocked her to her knees. When the time is right, the grief will ebb and she will re-emerge. Not the same as her old self, but pretty damn close. I should remember that, huh?

What mailman?

Later.